


Warm My Hands Up For Me

by HaroThar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU where Bro doesn't have the demon puppet, Cold Weather, Established Relationship, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Outage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaroThar/pseuds/HaroThar
Summary: The power at Dave's place goes out, but luckily his boyfriend has a good idea of how to warm him up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written human porn in AGES omg. But hopefully this isn't too bad~

You hear a knock on your door and wonder who it could possibly be. Your dad is stoking the fire (after all, a fireplace without a fire is a pretty piss-poor excuse for a fireplace now isn't it!) so you roll down the sleeves of your holiday themed sweater and head to the door. Outside, Dave and his older brother stand shivering.

“Hey bro,” Dave somehow makes his voice fairly controlled despite the way his body language is screaming I’M COLD LET ME IN, “So uh, power’s out at our place and we were wondering if we could stay here?”

“Of course!” you all but shout as you herd the Striders inside, your toes curling inside your fuzzy socks from the cold wafting in from the front door. “Come in come in! Shut the door; it's cold as balls out!”

Your dad comes over, clapping his hands to get flakes of bark and sawdust off of them from when he loaded more wood into the fire, and offers Dirk a manly handshake. Dave, you take care of yourself, helping him out of his coat and all but shoving him into the kitchen where you insist on making hot cocoa for him. You have Betty Brand (curse that batterwitch!) but it's fast so you can't complain that hard. As the mug microwaves, you note that Dave’s lips are actually blue from cold, as he sits huddling on a kitchen stool, hands in the armpits of his sweater. You know that, having moved here from Texas, he wasn't really that great with the cold to begin with, and you also know that as much as Dirk tries his best, warm, fully-functional, actually decent winter coats aren't the easiest to come by in the local goodwills and thrift shops. 

So you’ll just have to warm up Dave’s lips yourself, now won't you! 

“Derp alert, why are you looking at me like that?” Dave asks as you swing yourself around to where he's sitting. You only grin and cup his chin in your fingers, stroking the cool skin with the sides of your knuckles. You let his breath catch (savor the sound) and wait until his ruddy cheeks are even just a little bit redder (special for you) before you break his suspense and close the gap to kiss him. You move your lips against his, soft and warm where his are so cold and chapped, and you relish how easy it is for you to break his coolkid facade and get him weak and breathy in your hold. The timer dings at you and you feel as much as you hear him groan, unwilling to separate the kiss just yet, his hands curling into the sleeves of your sweater in a half conscious attempt to get you to linger a little longer.

“Dave,” you scold teasingly, “I gotta get you hot cocoa.”

“It needs to cool first,” he says, leaning forward so your lips swing closer. You snort and push his face back with an open palm, smudging his glasses that he insists on wearing inside. (Those glasses that you got him that he hasn't taken off since, that gift that means so much to him because _you_ were the one to give it to him.)

“Ass,” he deadpans as you slide across the kitchen in your socks, humming victoriously.

“Who, me?” you ask in mock innocence, a hand flying to your chest and your lips parting in “shock” as you open the microwave.

“I do hope you made a mug for our other guest as well,” your dad says as he walks into the kitchen, Dirk rubbing his hands for friction and following close behind.

“Dad, what do you take me for?” you say as though that's something that you totally wouldn't do. To your credit, you did remember that more people than just Dave exist (which, score!) and you pull two mugs out of the opened microwave. You mix Dave's while your dad mixes Dirk’s, both of them protesting that they're fully capable (Dave protesting a lot weaker, you notice), to which both you and your dad insist that they're the guests! You've learned a lot from your dad, and proper hospitality is one of those things!

Your dad and Dirk leave for the living room again, probably to go sit next to that fire and warm up a bit, so you and Dave are once again left to your own devices in the kitchen. You get the mug into his frigid fingers and hop up on the kitchen table, your legs to either side of his rail of a body.

“See bro I told you, it's too hot for my fragile body just yet. Gotta put a warning label on this shit or some 80 year old grandma is gonna come in awaving and threatening to sue. ‘Why didn't you put a caution:hot sign on your coffee cups?’ ‘Well ma'am we thought it was obvious’ ‘I'm calling my lawyer; you'd better be prepared to be responsible for the damage done to my delicate and frail body!’ On and on she goes, if she had only waited to drink the scalding liquid until it was reasonable mcdonalds wouldn't have to waste all that ink on the redundancy of warning people that hot liquids are hot.” 

You listen to Dave ramble along his tangent affectionately, admiring his impersonation of a little old lady and a tired food service employee. Once he's done you ask, “And how should I keep you occupied while you wait for it to cool enough for your frail,” you slide a hand off your knee and to his ruddy cheek, “delicate,” you slip your other hand to the other cheek, cradling his perfect chin and pulling your faces close together, “constitution?” you whisper against his lips, space barely enough for you to form words without your lips touching. You can feel the lines in his body, and perfectly imagine the way he's straining up to meet you, back arched just a little, fingers clamping on the hot mug in anticipation, his body expressing all the things he won't let his voice emote.

“Oh baby I thought you’d never ask,” he says, and you might be pulling this out of your ass but did you just hear a little shiver in that voice of his? My my, he must be even colder than you think or you're even better than you guessed. Either way, you kiss him again, and swear to get this boy some chapstick once you're done here. He kisses back eagerly, starved for the very special brand of affection only you can give him (because he's yours, all yours, and nobody but yours) and you do your best to sate his desperation with your lips and tongue and thumbs as they stroke his cheeks. You break the kiss and leave pecks on his cheek and temple and forehead, little flairs of heat on his chilled skin, and then travel back down his nose to his lips, then down again to his jaw and the hollow of his neck. The subtle way he squirms for you- like he's trying so hard not to but just can't help himself- is a thing you live for.

“You're so cold, baby,” you murmur against the skin of his neck.

“Maybe because it's cold as the dead hand of a long deceased grandma out there,” he mumbles back.

You grin and leave a little nip on his neck, enjoying the little jolt and shiver you get in response. “I have an idea of how to warm you up,” you say devilishly, pulling back so he can see your grin. You know from years of working on your Prankster’s Gambit that you have a grin to match a trickster god’s. You can watch as his brain swan dives into the gutter, where you want it, and before he can respond you press a finger to those pretty lips and shh him.

“Finish your cocoa first, Dave; don't want it to get cold.”

He whines at you and you can't help but laugh. “ _Ass!_ ” he complains, and you just shrug with a smile and agree. He sullenly drinks from his mug and you smile at him from your perch. You love your boyfriend, you really do, but there's nothing you love quite so much as teasing your boyfriend mercilessly for kicks. Luckily, he must have some sort of masochistic streak or another, since he only seems to love you all the more for it. 

He drinks quickly, and you almost worry that he _will_ burn himself (and won't that be a terrible irony) but when he sets the mug down next to your thigh he doesn't seem worse for wear.

“So, this idea of yours,” he demands. 

“Oh, I was just thinking we could cuddle,” you say, faux casually with a wink on the end. “Maybe up in my bed, where the blankets are? Since you're sooo coooold.”

He’s up on his feet in a flash and you know it's because he doesn't want you to see him squirm with eagerness. “Yes, sounds great, cuddling, we are going to get so cuddly up in this bitch,” he rambles as he takes your wrist and starts pulling you toward the stairs, past your respective guardians at their place by the fire, “gonna be like Care Bears up in this shit, the cuddliest little fuzzy assholes with their weird ass bellies and the power of lurve and whatever, gonna cuddle this shit tighter than a barnacle on the ass of a giant whale. Mad cuddling yo, it is about commence, the cuddles are about to go down!” 

You get to your room and push him down onto your bed, using the momentum of your trek to easily topple him over beneath you. You kick off your shoes as he kicks off his and you pull your blanket up over both of you, settling in on top of him, just a little to the side, and wrapping your arms around him. He's already sneaking his hands up your sweater, the punk, so you kiss his cheek and jaw and neck some more, peppering his gorgeous face with kisses before you linger and suck a nice red spot onto his neck. Not hard enough to bruise, neither of you are much for pain, but enough that it'll tingle for a little while yet. Make him think of you as your hand slips down to cup his crotch. 

“Davey baby,” you coo at him, “you're cold all over!”

“Nnagh,” he gasps at you, legs squirming and icy hands gripping at your sides.

“There's no way around it, we’ll have to share body heat if you want to survive,” you say, playful for all you're trying to make your voice sultry. You slip your hand down his pants, briefly, toying with him, before you pull your hand right back out and undo his fly. He whines wordlessly, already starting to get noisy and vocal like you love making him, and wriggles out of his sweater. He's got two T shirts on underneath, which also go when the sweater does, and your heart twinges with pity for this thin boy underneath you. You bend and press a kiss to his bare chest, now shivering again.

“I'm going to warm you right up,” you promise softly, voice gentle.

“Oh baby,” Dave says in response, stretching out his arms above him like a seductive dumbass. You pry off your own sweater and settle back down on top of him, his bare chest chilly against yours. You tug down his pants and he helpfully wiggles out of them, then presses up close to you, his hands on the waist of your pants and tugging eagerly.

“Go ahead,” you encourage. You take his shades off and set them on the nightstand as he pulls down your pants, and he presses a kiss to your chest as you kick them the rest of the way off. You pull the blanket a little tighter around the two of you, left only with your socks (and your, specifically, glasses). Dave doesn't hardly seem to mind, as he snuggles in close and presses kisses to your jaw and neck. He holds you tight around your waist and you hug him close in return, your cock brushing up against his. You gently grab him by the hair and tilt his head up so you can kiss him on the lips again. He crumbles beneath you so perfectly, all pliable and boneless, the nails that dig gently into your back the only remaining rigidity in his body.

“John,” he gasps between you kissing his lips and you kissing his jaw. 

“Mm?”

“‘M still cold bro. Think I could go for some, aah, exercise, to warm me up.”

“And what kind of exercise we talking?” you ask impishly, squirming a hand around to his chest to tweak one of his nipples. 

“John don't be a tease!” Dave complains, and you can't help but laugh as you roll your hips down onto his. He gasps and his hips buck for you, which is entirely gratifying, and he slides one hand down to grab your dick in his calloused fingers.

“I don't think just cuddling is gonna do it for me,” he tells you as you bite your lower lip, “I think you're gonna have to get a little more physical with me.”

“Is that so?” you ask, slipping one hand down to grab his cock in return. He whimpers for you and you shush him mockingly. “Dave, what if my dad hears you?” you tease. “Or your brother?”

“Dirk can go suck his own cock,” Dave spits, and you laugh at him. “C’mon John don't just cradle it like a newborn snake, actually touch my banana schlong.”

You make a face. “Not if you're going to call it that!”

“My yogurt slinger.”

“Dave.”

“My oblong sausage.”

“Babe.”

“My-” You cut him off by kissing him again, sliding your grip up to the tip of his dick and pressing your thumb against the slit. That shuts him up, well, sort of. He's more wordlessly moaning for you now, which is definitely preferable. The hand not on your dick clings to your shoulder blade, and you methodically stroke up and down his cock, your hand measured here at the start. There will be time to be frantic and desperate later; right now you just want to tease the everloving shit out of your boyfriend. You press your tongue against his lips and they part willingly for you. Eheheh, Dave really does spoil you rotten. Your hips start to slowly grind down on his, and he gasps so prettily against your mouth. His own hips start moving in return, and you can feel your cock getting nice and hard as his hand plays with your tip and slides up and down your shaft. You curl down and press kisses to his collarbone and listen to the way he doesn't try to hide his little gasps and tiny moans. You can get him so vocal, all of it just for you. Dave unraveled and disheveled and perfect and noisy and vocal _just for you_.

“John,” he begs- so pretty, exquisite, yours alone- “please, c’mon please, aren't you supposed to be warming me up? Doesn't that require some goddamned friction?”

You laugh but oblige, picking up your pace so that he moans and rocks his hips up for you. His fingers go shaky on your cock and faster too, which makes your breath quicken and your head drop down onto his shoulder. 

“Ha…” he breathes, “not so, funny now is it, Mr. funnyman?” His question is punctuated by him pressing his thumb down on your slit, smearing the little bead of precum that had gathered there. You jerk down into him and leave a small lovebite on his shoulder.

“I think I'm hilarious,” you retort, enjoying the way your own voice has gone all breathy and shaky. You rut down against Dave, squeezing his cock and pressing kisses to every readily available inch of skin, and he rolls up against you in turn. His hand that isn't gripping your dick like a lifesaver in a storm is alternately clutching your shoulder and going up onto your hair, and his mouth is wide open for you and spilling out delectable little gasping grunts and whimpers. His legs come up around your hips and squeeze, keeping you close to him, and you kiss him on the ear.

“You're so good, Dave,” you praise, and he gasps and squirms in your hold. “You're so handsome and smooth and lithe, Dave, so perfect. You fit up against me so well, my precious, perfect Dave, you're so good, Dave, so good.” As you admire him, he grows louder with his breathy moans and stuttering “ah”s. His hand grows fervent on your dick and you abandon any idea of teasing him you might've still had, instead rocking into him and stroking his dick with all you've got as you sing his praises the way you know he likes to hear. 

“John, John, oh god, John!” he whimpers as you suck on the corner of his jaw.

“Do you feel as hot as you look, Dave?” you ask, voice airy and shivery. You're close too; seeing him all pretty and flushed like this beneath you, pressed up so tight against you and sounding so needy, guarantees you won't last long. 

“John I'm-” he chokes off as you slide your thumb over the slit of his cock, precum making it slippery. 

“Me too,” you whisper, breathing hard. You feel your gut clench tight as your breath grows almost instantaneously desperate. You come on his stomach, his hand clenching down on your dick as he comes on you in return. His legs slump around your hips and he lays sprawled on your bed, gone limp and noodly underneath you, hair splayed on your pillow and stuck with sweat on his forehead. You laugh, because you feel good, and lower yourself more gently onto him than he flopped down onto your mattress. You kiss him gently and his hands come gingerly to your sides.

“Hey baby,” you say quietly, “you feeling warmer now?”

“Mhm,” Dave hums, smiling at you with eyes half lidded. His cheeks and lips are both flushed a pretty hue, and you are reminded of an earlier promise you made to yourself. You grab a tissue from the side of your bed and wipe your chests off, them pull up a tube of chapstick.

“Your lips are dry as hell,” you say, tapping the stick against his chin, and he laughs at you.

“Oh my god, Egderp,” he breathes as you admire the way his laugher shakes his entire frame.

“Love you babe,” you say as he takes the tube from your fingers.

“Love you,” he whispers, special for your ears to hear alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think!


End file.
